I think it's been about 2 months since I was last in NY but it seems like a lot longer to me. One of the little gotchas I never planned for in my global superstar lifestyle was getting a haircut. I'm a rational dude but when it comes to haircuts I'm superstitious - I like to find one person and stick with them until they die. My current haircutter is Charles, an old dude on Atlantic Ave who probably will be dying soon, now that I think about it. Anyway, that aside, two months without a cut and my doo starts to get unwieldy. Pingle recommended this spot near her house and for some reason, it didn't even faze me. I didn't even consider I might come out looking like Mao or some other bowl-cut Chinese dude.
The salon looked normal enough - bunch of seats in front of mirrors, magazines to peruse, etc. I sat at one of the seats and looked through a car magazine the helper-guy dropped off for me. Some waiting was in store - we got there as the place was opening and only the hair-washers had arrived, not the cutters. Back in the Apple, the washers and cutters are one in the same but I took it in stride. A few pages into Singapore Gear, I looked up into the mirror to see a woman slowly walking up behind me. She was delicately cradling something in one hand and had what looked like a plastic ketchup bottle in the other. She was the washer. She carefully turned the cradle-hand over onto my head as she squirted a liquid from the ketchup bottle. This was some wash, nothing like I've ever had for a hair-cutting. Just imagine a normal wash, followed up by a head scratching, followed up by head and neck massage. By the time it was done, I didn't care if they cut my hair - I needed a nap. I snoozed through the cut, opening an eye from time to time to make sure nothing crazy was happening. After the cut, they even rinsed my hair again to get out all the snip-bits. Good value for the money - and the look? Just as bad as always - looked like me, with a smaller amount of hair. No complaints.
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